The Beloved Daughter (18 page)

“You can offer them your love,” So-Young answered with wide-eyed simplicity. “And your heart. Just think of all the hurting souls you could bless!” I imagined that So-Young would blossom and flourish wherever she went. I, on the other hand, would probably be nothing more than an extra limb at Mrs. Cho’s orphanage. Certainly there were more qualified young woman who could serve in my place.

“What do you want to be doing?” When I stared at So-Young blankly, she rephrased her question. “If you could choose your destiny, what would it be?” The words were like a foreign language to me. Up until I arrived at the safe house, I wasn’t even free to choose my own clothing or food. I mulled over So-Young’s question in silence, but before I had the chance to answer, Mr. Kim appeared at the opening in the bamboo partition.

“Daughter, it is past time you went to sleep. Kwan and I would like to have a word right now with our guest.”

I glanced at So-Young. She kept her gaze on the quilted blanket. I followed Mr. Kim to the common area where Kwan was sitting on a wooden stool cracking his knuckles.

Once I was situated across from both men, Mr. Kim cleared his throat. “Sister Chung-Cha, as a guest in our safe house, you were expected to abide by certain rules and regulations.” I picked at my nails in embarrassment. “These rules are for your own protection. This safe house is meant to be a haven, a refuge for the weary. We do not ask our guests to serve alongside us, only to let us serve them.”

I winced. “Your actions this evening showed me two things.” I wondered how it was that Mr. Kim would risk his personal safety to serve others in the name of Christ, yet he had never once smiled in my presence. “First, it revealed to me that your years spent in the labor camps stripped you of your ability to submit to any sort of authority.” For a moment, I feared that Mr. Kim was going to forbid me from traveling to Seoul in a few days. He coughed before continuing. “Nevertheless, I am forced to admit that your actions tonight also showed me that the trials of your past enable you to minister effectively and compassionately to the refugees we serve here.”

For the first time I dared to glance into Mr. Kim’s stern face. Out of the corner of my eye I saw Kwan smiling at me broadly, and after receiving an affirmative grunt from Mr. Kim he spoke. “What Mr. Kim is saying is that there are certain defectors who come to our doors that need someone like you, someone who has gone through the same trials they have, someone who has suffered at the hands of the same guards they have.” I was humiliated at this allusion to my own abusive past. Nevertheless, my heart was racing as I understood what these two men were saying.

“And so,” Kwan concluded, “Mr. Kim and I would like you to reconsider your journey to Mrs. Cho’s orphanage. Of course, if you feel God leading you to Seoul, you have our blessing to go. But if you sense the Lord is preparing you for a ministry here alongside us at the safe house, we would welcome you as our sister and fellow servant.”

I tried unsuccessfully to hide my grin. “I want to stay here!”

Mr. Kim grimaced. “Think it through. If you go to South Korea, you will be safe. You can become a citizen. The South Korean government gives people like you a stipend to live off of, at least at first. No one will ever try to deport you.” I couldn’t tell if Mr. Kim wanted to scare me away from staying in Sanhe, or if he only wanted me to be aware of the dangers involved. “If you remain here, you are taking a great risk. If you are caught by the police, they will send you back to the prison camps.”

I don’t know where my confidence came from, but I squared my shoulders and declared, “God has led me here safely. I don’t expect that he will forsake me now.”

So-Young, who was standing at the opening of her partition unnoticed, squealed with delight, then ran in and embraced me. “Sister!” she exclaimed. Mr. Kim turned away with a frown, but Kwan watched me intently, with a look that left me perplexed for the rest of the night and into the following days and weeks.

Seasons

“As long as the earth endures, seedtime and harvest, cold and heat, summer and winter, day and night will never cease.” Genesis 8:22

Spring crept upon the Jilin Province. Each day, dawn awakened the lush Sanhe countryside a little earlier than the day before. The sparrows in the woods behind our home warbled, and the warm winds from the southwest melted away the last of the snow and ice.

As I regained my strength little by little, I took over most of the domestic duties at the safe house, allowing So-Young more time to tend to the sick and impoverished in Sanhe. Mr. Kim and Kwan, in addition to their daytime employment, were working to build an extension off the safe house that would provide two extra rooms for refugees. The Tumen River was running quickly now, nearly overflowing its banks with the influx of melted snow from the mountain streams. Not many defectors dared ford the river at its peak in the springtime months. But even though we saw very few new refugees, we had plenty of work to keep up around the safe house.

When summer arrived, the clammy winds brought a higher than expected infestation of mosquitoes throughout Sanhe. Several more Korean babies were left on our doorstep during those hot and muggy months. And although I vividly remember the first two twin girls we cared for, I don’t recall many of the nameless others who arrived in baskets outside our door.

So-Young and I watched over the infants until Mrs. Cho’s escorts came to carry them on the long journey to South Korea. Mrs. Cho was disappointed that I didn’t come to work with her at the orphanage but assured me in a warm and encouraging letter that I would be welcome to join her in Seoul if I ever reconsidered. Mrs. Cho alluded to the risks I faced by staying in Sanhe, and I couldn’t discredit her warnings. The Chinese police were constantly trying to capture Korean nationals and send us back to our homeland.

My safe-house family never ignored these dangers. Mr. Kim kept his cellular phone charged and never went anywhere without it. He had an anonymous contact who agreed to warn him of impending police raids. Mr. Kim made me and any other refugees at the safe house practice hiding. If the home was raided, we needed to disappear in a matter of seconds. He and Kwan built a trap door leading to a small cellar on the side of the safe house in case of a surprise visit from the Chinese police.

When I was not busy cooking or cleaning for my safe-house family, I worked at home. So-Young taught me to weave baskets that the Kims sold to help pay for the safe house’s vast expenses. I wished I could join So-Young on her endless errands of mercy, but without proper papers it wasn’t safe for me to be seen around Sanhe. Some of the citizens there would be glad to turn me over to the Chinese police for the promised bribe price.

During those long and busy summer months, the fields around the safe house grew more and more inviting. With my strength slowly returning after years of malnourishment and intermittent torture, I wanted nothing more than to be outside. Unfortunately, because the Sanhe police would deport me back to North Korea if they found out where I was from, Mr. Kim didn’t let me leave the safe house alone. My most coveted luxury became the short walks I took with Kwan in the evenings when he came home from work. We usually strolled in back of the safe house, never tarrying far, and I took So-Young’s identification papers with me in case we were stopped. Although these outings didn’t allow me to wander all over and explore the vast forests and hillsides surrounding Sanhe, they were a much appreciated reprieve from the four walls of the safe house that made up the rest of my Sanhe existence.

Kwan was a pleasant chaperone, and I enjoyed spending my evenings with him. Time passed too quickly on our walks together. Kwan asked me many questions about my childhood, especially about my father. It didn’t take long for me to realize that Father was as great a hero to Kwan as he once was to me. I told Kwan about Father as I remembered him before his arrest: a doting parent, a patient teacher, a passionate scholar. Kwan, in return, told me about my father’s work as a donkey, a Scripture smuggler who brought more Bibles into North Hamyong Province than anyone else Kwan knew of. Remembering Kwan’s warning on our first morning together, I never mentioned Moses again, but I asked myself if this great hero was the link that connected my father to my safe-house family. I wondered if one day I might meet him.

“How did you ever get my father’s Bible?” I asked Kwan one evening as we strolled along the forested area behind the safe house.

Kwan pulled aside a leafy branch and held it out for me as I passed. “On his last journey here, your father told us that he might not be able to return to Sanhe for a while.” I focused on Kwan’s voice, trying to remember each word exactly as he uttered it. Like so many other times when Kwan spoke about my father, I imagined I was learning about him for the very first time.

“Hyun-Ki told us that the inspections unit was coming to Hasambong. Your father knew that his Bible wouldn’t be safe in your home, so he asked us to keep it for him until he returned to Sanhe again.”

“Do you think he was scared?” I tried to remember a time when I had seen my father afraid.

Kwan shook his head. “Not scared. But Korean study Bibles are very scarce, and I guess your father didn’t want such a precious gift to be confiscated.”

“So he brought the Bible here?”

Kwan nodded. “Hyun-Ki loaned it to us until he could return again to Sanhe. But then when we learned of your father’s arrest, we had to admit there was little chance of his survival. If we knew anything at all about Hyun-Ki, it was that he would keep on preaching the gospel until he drew his last breath.” Kwan straightened his shoulders and lifted his chin. So far I kept my promise to never divulge the truth behind Father’s fate. As far as Kwan and the Kims knew, Father died of torture in the underground detainment center. I wouldn’t bring myself to dishonor my father’s memory, especially amongst those who loved and respected him so deeply, by telling them what really happened to Father in those underground chambers of Camp 22.

Kwan stared at the cluster of wildflowers by our feet. “Your father was an amazing man.”

“I know.” I wondered what Kwan would say if I told him the full truth. I looked back over my shoulder to see how far we had meandered from the safe house.

Kwan was quiet, and in unspoken agreement we both turned around to go back home. I couldn’t guess what Kwan was thinking about. I looked in the distance at the purple and yellow flowers that covered the hillside. I thought of my father who always adored God’s creation.

“Do you see these mountains, righteous daughter?” Father once asked me, pointing to the Hasambong range that surrounded our home on nearly every side. “No matter how corrupt man becomes, he still can’t tarnish the beauty of God’s world. It is a constant reminder to us of our Creator’s faithfulness and power, even in spite of the world’s ever-increasing wickedness.”

I couldn’t remember whether it was years, or months, or only weeks later that I learned my father died a shameful death after denying the Savior he once worshiped so passionately.

“There’s more to the story, you know.” Kwan had been so quiet that the sound of his voice made me jump.

“I’m sorry.” Kwan apologized and cracked a knuckle. “I didn’t mean to startle you.” When I didn’t respond, Kwan said, “We were discussing your father’s Bible.”

I didn’t feel like talking about my apostate father’s precious Scripture anymore, but I couldn’t think of any way to change the subject.

“When we heard of his arrest, we guessed that your father would not be returning to us in Sanhe. So Mr. Kim and I both decided that the best way to honor your father’s legacy of boldness was to share his Bible with as many as would benefit from it. That single book has gone into North Korea five times and back since your father was taken prisoner. We send it to those who need it most, then when they find it too risky to hold on to, the Bible makes its way back to us in Sanhe.”

I tried to think of something to say, but with the events surrounding Father’s shameful death so vivid in my memory, the only words that came to mind would have sounded trite and forced. Fortunately, Kwan needed no encouragement to keep up his monologue.

“In all those times, it was never discovered,” Kwan remarked. I glanced up at the first traces of a golden sunset. “Most recently, Mr. Kim loaned it to Pastor Tong’s son here in Sanhe who was eager to understand the Word more fully. Pastor Tong’s family is Korean as well, although they did not come from the north. The morning after you arrived in Sanhe, Mr. Kim and I told the pastor’s son that you were here. We all agreed that no one has more claim to that great treasure as Song Hyun-Ki’s beautiful daughter.”

Kwan looked away and scratched his chin, refusing to speak again for several minutes. I knew that Kwan found me attractive. Yet instead of basking in the attention of this kind and gentle man, I was thinking of a night several months before. It was two days after I agreed to remain at the safe house. So-Young was so excited about my decision to stay that she planned an entire feast to welcome me into her family. She braided my hair with ribbons and barrettes and let me wear one of her best dresses. She was so proud of the overall effect that she ran to a neighbor’s house to borrow her small mirror.